Mother’s Day without you

ByJoni Bouchard
Holding you close always and forever
Holding you close always and forever

Mothers Day, Sunday, May 12, 2013 (721 days)

Dear Will,

It’s not an easy day for me. I woke this morning and tried a couple of times to get out of bed, but I just couldn’t do it.  I took the Kleenex box back to bed with me and stayed there all morning. I am trying to find happiness in remembering all the Mothers Day’s I had with you; the breakfasts in bed, the dinners you and your brothers and Dad prepared, the handmade gifts you made at school and the most beautiful handmade cards that I loved more than anything. I have saved them all.  I considered them treasures always but now that I will never have another from you they are more precious than anything I own.

As I write you this letter I am sitting on a blanket beside the rock and your tree at Heaven’s Gate; the place where we lost you forever almost two years ago.  It is both so very sad to be here but in some ways, comforting too. Memories of that day and the fun you were having here are as crystal clear as if it were yesterday and in the quiet times in between the birds chirping and a squirrel behind me in the forest chattering away I can hear your laugh and your voice. But, in the next breath as the tears trickle down my cheeks I, too, remember how it all came to an end and our world was changed forever.

Before I sat down I opened a bag of wildflower seeds that I brought along with me and sprinkled it all around the rocks and the base of your tree. In a month or two from now I am hopeful that I can sit here amongst the wild flowers; this spot already beautiful but a little closer to heaven I think with a mix of wildflowers shining their faces up towards the sun during the day and bowing their heads at night as if praying for another day to keep you company.

I am in no rush to leave this little place of heaven on earth. I will finish up the cup of tea that I also brought along before I pack up the blanket and my iPad and head back home.  Dad and your brothers are going to put together dinner for me this evening. We will talk about and remember the Mother’s Days when you, too, were at the table with us.  And we will all miss you so very, very much

Love you, little one.  More than a bus.

Momxo

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  • The Afterglow of a Bike Ride

     
    Will's Friends Ride For Will!
    Will’s Friends Ride For Will!
    Wednesday, June 18, 2014   Dear Will,   On Saturday, your Third Annual Ride For Will was held here in the community that was (and still is) your home. It was a beautiful day sandwiched between two rainy ones and my fingers were crossed, hopeful that you’d help out by keeping the rain away…. In the back of my mind I was preparing for a ten minute down pour at some point during the event, your signature “gotcha!” way of wanting to always have the last word, and in the end I was thrilled that you waited until we were safe inside.   Three years and three rides have yielded almost $150,000 to your Foundation and I am still awestruck at what happens on this day each June that we call The Ride For Will. People, young and old, show up with smiles and pledges, with hugs and support, not only to benefit your Foundation, but to honor you and show their support for Dad and I and your brothers. It is a memorable and most beautiful bittersweet day that renews our hope that you will never be forgotten. To me, there is something timeless about a bike. The simple pleasure it provides and the freedom it symbolizes is a right of passage in our neck of the woods for each and every child that grows up in this community. I will always remember the excitement that precluded any bike ride into Bragg Creek for icecream or candy and when you and your friends could do it without an adult ride-a-long, quite frankly, you’d hit the big time. Now, Will, your friends are driving to the city in their cars instead of packing their pockets with loose change to buy candy and icecream and that alone is difficult to accept at times. The passing of time is indeed a tough pill to swallow and I am quite sure it always will be.   What is magical about your Ride is that your friends and people who didn’t have the chance to know you show up with their bikes, adorned with WillPower bands, and I Ride For Will stickers on their helmets and bikes. They ride and stop at the refreshment stations and fill up on free candy and freeze pops, pedal to the school and back passing all of the familiar landmarks that were second nature to you. When I see your buddies on their bikes they magically become twelve again and though you aren’t there, YOU ARE. I am hopeful that you will always be with them in some way.  Whenever I see a boy on a bike, I am immediately thrown back into the many memories of you ripping out of the cul-de-sac with your pant leg tucked in your sock (if you weren’t wearing shorts!) in a hurry to meet a friend or two at the bike jumps or the soccer field or at a friend’s house to play. Those were the gifts of an ordinary day growing up here and memories that I will always treasure.   The Apres Ride BBQ and Silent Auction/Raffles that follow your Ride are amazing too. The love and support that shows up at our community Redwood House in burgers and icecream, in items donated for people to bid on and the lure of a raffle item is also magical. The entire day is beyond anything that I can describe and when I think back to three years ago how a few friends suggested and asked if they could organize a family bike ride for us in your memory I am overwhelmed at how it all started and how it has evolved and how it has continued…   It is no secret that you are in my thoughts every minute of every day, Will. My days begin and end with you and on Saturday, June 14th it was evident that you were on the minds of many who were there to support and remember and celebrate your life cut short. I know you were looking down on all of us with your big Willy smile and bluer than blue eyes. Since your tragic passing, it has always been our hope that something good could be born of something so tragic. There is healing for us knowing that in your memory what began as the simple pleasure of a bike ride has grown and taken on an identity of its own. The Annual Ride For Will allows us through your Foundation to make a difference in the world and that just feels right and feels good.   Now as I bask in the afterglow of Saturday’s Ride For YOU my heart feels a little lighter and oh, so full. You, little Blue, are quite a boy.   Love you like a bus on a bike, (and only you could make sense of that!)     Momxo

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  • Number Eight

    BasketballWednesday, June 29, 2011  (38 days)   Good morning, little sun,   Last night I was reminiscing about your favourite number.  Eight.  Kathleen and I had chatted on Monday about why you loved the number “8” so much and the obvious reasons, of course, where that, for one, it looked like a snowman and we all know how much you love snow.  Secondly, it was Ben’s favourite number and it was no secret that whatever Ben liked, you liked too.  Thirdly, Powder 8’s came to mind and one of Dad’s favourite memories is of you and him skiing fresh powder in Fernie; he crossing over the fresh turns you’d already made in the snow in front of him to make an “8”.  Then, we remembered that in all of the sports you played, if there was a jersey and a choice of which number could be worn, you always chose a number that had an “8” in it.   Last night as I stood in the driveway saying goodbye to Kathleen, I turned around to walk back into the house and staring at me was our house number.  Number 8!  I stopped and stared, unable to move, and thought that perhaps the most beautiful reason of all, was that home was number 8.   Beautiful tears filled my eyes and at that moment I thought that maybe you were telling me something; that maybe “8” was your favourite number because it was your home.  Our home.  Because of that, I have never loved our home more.   I love you WillBilly.  Like a bus and to infinity.  (Which Mrs. Fischer reminded me today is an 8 turned on its side).  Another Wow.   Momxo

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  • My Special Invisible Glasses

    My Sweet Will
    My Sweet Will
    Friday, July 12, 2013 Hey Will, One of the hardest parts of losing you is watching time pass.  The world keeps turning; days turning into weeks and then to months and when I note the date or have to write it on something I shake my head – still not believing that its been two years (actually, 2 years, 52 days).  It seems like yesterday and forever at the same time.  I carry-on (somehow) most days but it isn’t without you on my mind every minute of every day.  I guess it is true that you are a part of me; a part of me that will be forever, and I find comfort in believing that as a mom and a son we are inseparable always.  Innately, I look for you everywhere I go, like I have special invisible glasses that can see you in the smallest of things.  Yesterday while walking through the woods I stopped and took notice of all the different hues of your favourite color, green, that surrounded me; so many trees, tall and short, big and small, both deciduous and coniferous, the bushes abundant with leaves of all shapes and colors of, yes, green.  The forest floor, also green, was covered with plants of all types, new shoots, moss… like a green carpet covering the dark brown fertile soil that provided a rich contrast to all the greenery.  It was beautiful; Mother Nature at one of her finest.  You’ll like this part, Will, for in the next heartbeat, I shuddered to think how many insects (for me, just a nicer sounding word for bugs) there were all around where I stood and instantly I thought how that wouldn’t have bothered you at all.  On the contrary, for surely you’d have looked for the bugs, the spiders, the creepy crawly things, and found the “ickyness” written all over my face quite entertaining.  I felt you with me in that green world and I laughed to myself knowing that while I was noticing all of the green stuff, you’d have been looking at the forest quite differently.  You’d have been looking at the tree trunks, and the branches, wondering how and where you could get up in there and climb, wondering how high you could go without a worry in the world. As my eyes were diverted back down to the ground, they were drawn to a little white flower that sprouted up and out of the soil.  It was small with feathery leaves; bowing its head in my direction… and through my special invisible glasses I saw you. I frequently notice the little things now – like this little white flower, little blue butterflies, even the beauty in a single raindrop; things I’d have not really thought twice about before.  Somehow these invisible glasses also give me a double vision; I see things through my eyes and then through yours. When I stop to look at the beauty in little things, I see you looking back at me and for a moment time stands still. Then when I blink, you’re gone.  I used to cry, straining so hard to find you, to see you, but now I trust that you are there and that I will see you.  It’s a lesson I am happy to have learned for when I tried to see you in the big picture I could never find you.  I know you are never far from me, Will.  We are inseparable, held together by an invisible thread.  You will always be my Will and I will always be your mom.  No one can ever take that away. Love you little son/sun… like a bus and a little white flower in a green world. Momxo The Cord We are connected, my child and I, By an invisible cord not seen by the eye. 

It’s not like the cord that connects us ’til birth, 
This cord can’t be seen by any on earth. 

This cord does its work right from the start
 It binds us together, attached to my heart. 

I know that it’s there, though no one can see 
The invisible cord from my child to me.

 The strength of this cord is hard to describe 
It can’t be destroyed, it can’t be denied. 

It’s stronger than any cord man could create 
It withstands the test, can hold any weight. 

And though you are gone, though you’re not here with me 
The cord is still there, but no one can see. 

It pulls at my heart, I am bruised, I am sore 
But this cord is my lifeline as never before. 

I am thankful that God connects us this way 
A mother and child, death can’t take it away. ~ author unknown ~

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  • Robins and Brown Bunnies…

    Memorial Rock
    Will's Memorial Rock - Fernie, BCWill’s Memorial Rock – Fernie, BC

    Sunday, April 17, 2016

     

    Hey Willy,

     

    Spring has sprung and with it comes all kinds of new “hellos” from you. The season of robins and brown bunnies, budding trees and tulips, open windows and shoes without socks, raking the grass of remnants of last fall after a winter season of snow and the excitement of putting out the patio furniture… its just gotta be Spring. But, wait… It can’t be spring until I have my picnic lunch with you and Dad up at your memorial rock in Fernie. Then it will be spring.

     

    Last weekend your favourite mountain closed for the ski season and on the Friday, Dad and I had our picnic with you under a cloudless sky on the bluest of bluebird days. It was my first visit to the rock since last summer and a day I’d been longing for for some time. Because I’m not able to ski with my hurting knees, Dad made arrangements for one of the ski patrollers to give me a lift up to your magical place on a snowmobile. I believe there’s nothing that the Resort wouldn’t do for you and us; time and time again they’ve gone above and beyond any expectation we could have ever had and we are ever grateful. A “thank you” never seems enough.

     

    Each time I meet someone affiliated with the Resort they seem to already know you and, well, it happened again. The patroller who gave me the lift told me that when he was training as a groomer three years ago he was taken to your rock late one night while in the snow cat. It was there that he learned your story and about your passion for skiing and for Fernie. He expressed how sorry he was to hear about your tragic passing and told me that you’re like a legend, Will; a little, blue-eyed legend. It’s not every day that someone gets to be remembered like that!

     

    Dad and I sat with you at the base of your rock and had our lunch. We shared some quiet conversation and some “remember whens” and some silence too. During our silence I ran my fingers over the face of your rock feeling the etching of every letter of every word that we so carefully chose to have engraved on it. In my silence came flashbacks of happy times with you and then sadness for what will never be. And then a reminder of why we chose a memorial rock – a rock is forever, Will, and so are you.

    Our family message engraved on the back
    Our family message engraved on the back

    Now it is spring and now I can focus on all the little hellos that you are sending my way; the robins and the brown bunnies, the budding trees and the tulips, open windows and shoes without socks…

     

    I miss you, Willy, and I love you. Like a bus full of robins and brown bunnies and a big, beautiful forever rock.

     

    Momxo

     

     

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  • Celebrating Every Tiny Moment

    tinyheartrock.jpg

    Sunday, March 13, 2016

    Hey Little Blue,

     

    It has been a week of much reflection. A week of questions with no answers, of traumatic flashbacks and a week of friends having to find their way amidst their own losses. The circle of life is not always an easy one but I know firsthand that when there is deep sadness it means there is deep love. I was reminded over and over of how small we really are and of how little control we have in this big picture we call life.

     

    There are two special women who have woven threads into my own life story and who have taught me heaps about life and loss, grief and sadness. They shared their voices with me and spun yet another perspective on life and loss. They invited me to see their loss through their eyes and painted a beautiful picture of not what could have been or should have been, but what is. Their stories are incredibly beautiful and inspiring and I feel so blessed to know them.

     

    Come Thursday, I found myself “needing” our weekly drive to the mountains and when Dad and I headed to Fernie that afternoon I felt that I could once again fill my lungs with a big breath and see the beauty that surrounded me with quiet, thoughtful eyes. I had a plan, Will, and for my Type A personality that felt pretty darn good. (Remember how some of my plans would drive you boys crazy? Well, that’s Type A for you and good or bad I must tell you that I still have that). Rather than stay in sadness I was going to search for and celebrate all the tiny beautiful moments I could find. The crazy part though was that, much to my surprise, the tiny moments found me. At first I was dumbfounded? And then I knew. It was you, Will. It had to be you. It was you.

     

    Snowflakes that fell while the sun shone? That could only be you. Tiny, new shoots of green poking up through patches of ice and snow? Pretty sure that was you. A lone ladybug crawling across the windowsill in our bedroom? Yup, you again. The tiny glimpse I had of your star in the night sky when everyone claimed that it was cloudy and overcast? Had to be you. And the teeny tiny heart shaped rock that I found while walking Finn on Saturday? Hands down, that was you.

     

    With each of those tiny moments comes a smile that begins in my heart and radiates outward. These seemingly little things are what matter most and the impact they carry is huge. They are the necessary reminders that keep me keepin’ on because they are you. You’re a funny one, Will, always the boy who loved to poke and to have the last word (even when it got you into trouble). I will never tire of these tiny, magical moments you sprinkle about my world. Each one a tiny moment worthy of a celebration.

     

    Love you, Little Blue. Like a bus… full to the brim with tiny celebrations.

     

     

    Momxo

     

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  • Peek-a-Boo, I See You

    willforever21.jpg

    Monday, February 15, 2016

     

    Dear Will,

     

    There’s this photo I have. And it might be the most powerful photo I own…

    I walked into a store on main street in Fernie on a summer day in 2011…. only weeks after losing you and to this day I’m not sure if I laid eyes on it first or if it laid eyes on me. It was another of those profound moments that are crystal clear in my mind and the feelings it brought forth were and still are eerily beautiful. I remember being drawn to it the moment I walked through the doors because this boy looked like you. Just. Like. You. I picked it up and in the quiet stillness that surrounded me I heard these words — “peek-a-boo, Mom”. I knew that I could not leave the store without it.

     

    Those few weeks after losing you were numbing, confusing, foggy, terribly painful and raw with emotion. I spent all of my waking moments searching for answers, for meaning, for ways to survive, for something to believe in, for a God that would promise to take me to you at the end of my days here and that for eternity nothing could tear us apart. On that day, seeing that photo, it felt like I had the answer I wanted so desperately.  You see it, too, don’t you, Will?

     

    It’s as if this photo was taken from inside of me; from deep within my soul. This is what I see when I open my eyes. I see you as if you are super imposed into/onto everything that is real. It is yet another reminder that the veil is thin. And I like it that way. Peek-a-boo back at you, Willy. I see you.

     

    Love you like a bus, Will… with peek-a-boo windows from my soul.

     

     

    Momxo

     

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0 Comments

  1. Beautiful you are sweet sister of mine and we are thinking of you …and Will… as this is a special day and you must remember you are always the greatest mom in our eyes as well as your sons’ eyes! Love you like a sandwich with a lil dillwilly on the side as well xoxo
    One World…Lotsa Love!

    Reply

  2. ‘Don’t be ashamed to weep; ’tis right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees and fruit can not grow without water.’ Happy Mothers Day Joni. Sending you love and hugs tonight. xoxo

    Reply

    1. Kaylie, those words… those words so beautiful and so true. I really needed to hear them. Thank you. And, Happy Mom’s Day to you, too. Hug your precious three boys tight and then hug them again for me. Thanks for your love. And your hugs, too.

      Reply

  4. Dear Joni:
    You write so beautifully. It’s probably because you are really “talking” to Will that it is so full that unmistakable “mom talk” to her son. I certainly did think of you on Mother’s Day knowing that you would be hurting and longing for the Mother’s Days when Will was still here. You are and always will be his mom; that part never changes. That mothering shaped him and made him the awesome boy he was. Wishing you peace and hugs Joni. Take care💜💜

    Reply

  5. Just thinking of what a wonderful mom you were/are… If I were your son looking down(which I know he is) I would bring sunshine to that patch of seeds and my sun would have a great big smile… Just think of the joy of being a mom has fulfilled your life. Fast forward I am sure you will be the kind of grandma a child would love to call nana or gama or what ever… I know this might not help now but I am proud of my grandson being proud of his mom for being a bed maker. Thank God we our other kids and family to help us though our days of grief. Thinking of you lots. LYLAS (love you like a sister) Carol

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